1.    The optimist says the glass is half full.
2.    The pessimist says the glass is half empty.
3.    The marketer says, “Your glass needs re-sizing”.
4.    The engineer says the glass is over-designed for the quantity of water.
5.    The worrier frets that the remaining half will evaporate by morning.
6.    The entrepreneur sees the glass as undervalued by half its potential.
7.    The physicist says that the glass is not empty at all – it is half-filled with water and half-filled with air.
Recognize yourself in that list?  I do.  Number three jumps out and mugs me.  Number five, also, is too close to home for comfort.  Sometimes, as a parish priest, I see my job as number seven (“Things aren’t really as bad as they seem … if you look at it upside down that curve on the graph is going in the right direction!”)
I wish I were a number one or a six.  Then, gratitude would come naturally.  Instead, I am the kind of guy who sees what is missing and not what I have.
However, even for someone like me, there are times when gratitude comes easily.  There are those seasons of life when God seems to open the floodgates of heaven and you get drenched with good things.  I’m under that torrent right now, this week, as I write.
It’s now seven days since Gelind and I arrived in Montgomery and we would be counting our blessings, but for the fact that neither of us are great at math and we lost count days ago.  It has been an exhilarating week, filled with joyful new beginnings.
The list of people I’d like to thank is so long that I think it would take up this entire newsletter if I were to type it.  There’s God, for one (or should that be three?) for his unimaginable plans to call us to St John’s for this moment.  Then there’s Rosa Davis and John Carter, plus the rest of the Discernment Committee who were willing to entrust me with the rectorship of St John’s.  There’s Will Hill Tankersley, William Haynes and the vestry who stepped out in faith, believing that God has a wonderful plan in mind for our life together.  And of course, there’s Deonna Neal and her extraordinary ministry during these recent unsettled times, and her humble and gracious desire to help me in my role as Rector.
And then there’s you.  Yes, you.  You know who you are.  You are the regular member of St John’s who has prayed for the process of calling the new Rector, who has taken an active interest in the life of the parish through times of blessing and challenge, who has given of their time, energy, and engagement, with the assurance of a prosperous future for our parish.  You are the ‘normal’ parishioner who has made Gelind and me feel so much at home in our first week, who has contributed lovingly to our meals or who joined in the celebration over lunch last Sunday.
We are touched by your kindness, and we are thank God every day for each of you.  After one week, my ‘giving and receiving’ balance is horribly lopsided.  The receiving side is very heavy.  It will take many years of service on my part to get the scales equal.  I’ll probably never succeed.
So, thank you.  Thank you for being here and for being a part of this amazing St John’s community.  Thank you for the privilege of being a part of your life.  Gelind and I look forward to getting to know you personally and to serving with you.